She raked her hair from her face, blinked grit from her eyes. Adam stood beside her, still mostly dry. The current had carried them away from the plaza, but she could still hear the screams and sobbing.
“Who went into the water?” she asked.
“Zhirin. She’s still in there.”
As he spoke, the choppy surface of the canal bulged, and the girl rose, water and magic sluicing off her in shining streams. The water cradled her, carried her to the steps.
Isyllt pushed herself up and winced; her ankle ached where the nakh had yanked on it. “How did you do that?”
Zhirin smiled. “I am the river’s daughter.” For a moment her voice was changed-older, deeper. Isyllt shivered.
“What happened to the nakh?”
“I sent them away, back to the bay.” She shook her head, and the echo of the river vanished. “They should never have been here-the inner canals are warded.”
“Not any longer, it seems. The Dai Tranh knows its business.”
Footsteps approached, and she turned to see the fox running toward them. “Do explosions always attend you?” He lifted off his mask, revealing sweat-sheened tawny skin and tangled curls. The man from the fabric shop. Kohl smeared around his eyes, trailing black tears down his cheek.
“Not usually. I think the city has a sense of humor.” As if in answer, the clouds opened with a sigh and warm rain misted down. At least the city wouldn’t burn.
“If this keeps up, one might suspect a connection.”
Isyllt’s eyes narrowed. “One might say the same to you.”
His smile stretched, wry and crooked. “One might. I only wanted to make sure you didn’t drown.” He bowed, his coat glittering with bullion. “Perhaps we’ll see each other again, meliket.”
“Will the city survive if we do?”
“We’ll find out.” He turned into the shadow of an alley and was gone.
They took a longer route back to Raintree-some streets were still clogged with frantic people and all the skiffs had vanished. Isyllt’s wet shoes rubbed a blister as she walked.
“Do you know that man?” she asked Zhirin, cursing herself for not asking after the market.
“No. I thought I saw his mask near one of the boxes, though. He may be from the Khas.”
That would be all she needed, attracting the attention of yet another Khas agent.
Lights burned in windows all down Campion Street-people up late celebrating, or worrying over the news? But Vasilios’s house was black and cold.
Isyllt paused. She’d never seen the house without some sliver of light. “Could he have gone out?” she asked as they climbed the steps.
Zhirin frowned as she found the key on her belt. “So late, in this weather-it would be odd.” Isyllt nearly stopped her as she slid the key home, but the lock turned with no burst of flame.
But as they stepped across the threshold, Isyllt’s ring chilled. Her jaw tightened. “Something’s wrong.”
“What?” Adam asked.
“Someone’s dead.” She reached, listening, but heard nothing. Weak light spilled past her and she glanced down. No wet footprints marked the tile, no mud stained the rug but what clung to their shoes. “Adam?”
“I can’t tell. It smells like it usually does.”
She followed the chill upstairs to the study. A flutter of movement in the shadows made her tense, but it was only the curtains dancing in the damp breeze from an open window. The lamps were out and she conjured witchlight as they entered the room. Eyes flashed in the sudden glare and the cat hissed and vanished in a pale blur. Zhirin gasped.
Vasilios lay sprawled facedown across the carpet beside his chair, one arm twisted behind his back, the other reaching for his throat.
She moved closer to the corpse, the light floating in front of her. A length of silk circled his throat and his face was dark and swollen. Zhirin let out a choked sob.
Isyllt willed the light closer. The silk was blue, familiar. “Black Mother,” she whispered, stiffening. Her scarf, that she’d worn their second night in the city; she’d forgotten she lost it.
“Adam, check the house, and the back.”
He nodded and vanished down the black hallway.
Tugging her wet coat-skirts aside, she knelt beside Vasilios. No trace of a lingering ghost, of course-that would be too easy.
“What are you doing?” Zhirin asked as she reached for his face.
“Finding out what happened.”
The vision came quickly:
Isyllt jerked away with a gasp, one hand flying to her throat. Her light flickered with her speeding heart.
As her pulse slowed, she realized Zhirin was gone. Then she heard the footsteps. Heavy booted feet rushing up the stairs. A lot of them. Lantern-light flooded the room as she spun.
And found herself facing an eagle-headed jinn and a troupe of red-clad soldiers. In front of the procession, Zhirin hugged herself, her face sickly in the unsteady light.
Asheris took off his mask and handed it to the closest soldier. He stared at Vasilios, then back at Isyllt.
“I hoped,” he said softly, “that they were wrong. We’ve had enough unpleasantness tonight.”
Isyllt rose, damp cloth peeling off her skin. “That who was wrong?”
“The anonymous person who reported a disturbance at the Medeion house.”
“And you came yourself? Aren’t you needed in the city right now?”
“The city guards have things in hand, as much as they can. More must wait for morning. And if you were involved in any trouble, I thought it best to come myself.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “You think I was part of this?”
“I think someone wants me to believe you were.”
“We just returned,” Zhirin said, fear a shrill edge in the words. “You can’t think-” Her voice broke and she rubbed a hasty hand over her face.
“Forgive me, Miss Laii. This has been a very unhappy night, and it’s cruel of me to prolong it. I’ll arrange for an escort to take you home to your family. Until I learn who’s responsible for your master’s death, I don’t feel it safe to let you travel unaccompanied. Or you, Lady Iskaldur-you’ll be under my protection until this is resolved.”
Trapped, as easy as that. “You’re too kind, my lord.”
“Where is your companion?”
“We were separated at the festival. I’d expected him to return by now.” A cautious stretch of
“I’ll leave men stationed here. When he returns, they’ll bring him along.”
“What about our luggage?”
“I’ll have that brought too, when we’re done searching the house. I trust you’ll forgive the inconvenience.”
“Of course.”
She accepted his offered arm and his hand closed on her, gentle and inexorable as shackles.
From the shelter of a fern bank on the northern shore, Xinai watched the lights of the city. Lukewarm rain misted around her, whispering against the leaves, gleaming as it rolled off fern fronds.
No point in watching, she knew. Even her night-charmed eyes couldn’t see so far, couldn’t watch what happened in the city’s heart. There would be no fires tonight, no plumes of smoke to mark their success. The scattered groups of Xian revolutionaries made offerings to the spirits tonight, but there would be no masks or dancing in the forest camps.
